Neæra: A Tale of Ancient Rome

by Joel Chandler Harris

  CHAPTER VIII.

  Pleasantly situated on the commanding height of the Janiculum was thevilla of Fabricius. More delightful in the enjoyment of its cool breezesduring the summer heats, yet in winter or summer, the old ex-senator wasseldom away from it for a whole day together. At times, however, he wouldyield to a desire to make the journey to visit his estates; but this wasnot often. His suburban villa, and not his birthplace, was the scene ofhis happiest days of prosperous domesticity. But that was all changed. Afew select friends of old times he yet preserved and cherished. Withthese, and the serene consolations of a well-stocked library, he passedhis uneventful days, in calm resignation, under the haunting sense of hisloneliness. As he sat and brooded in the seclusion of his silent house, heconjured up the ghosts of former days; he listened to the well-rememberedvoices--he stirred, and all was gone again. And then, what painful sighsarose from his breast. Alas! how many such had those walls listened to!

  On this evening Fabricius sat in his winter room, before a fire whichburned brightly in a brazier on the ample hearth, for the October nightswere chilly. His elbow rested on a small table, whereon were lying booksand writing materials. But the old man's eyes were bent on the blazinglogs, and his mind was far away in the past. The soft light of the silverlamp beside him flooded over his face, and revealed every line andwrinkle, as sharply as the level rays of the setting sun display the seamsand furrows on a mountain's breast. The native expression of courage anddetermination displayed by the high, bold curves of his features, wasrelaxed and overborne by an air of melancholy, so deep, that it seemedalmost on the point of merging into actual tears had not the entrance ofan old grizzled slave roused him from his reverie.

  'What do you say, Natta?' he asked, not catching the domestic'sannouncement.

  'There is a man awaiting in the porch, who wishes to see you.'

  'What kind of a man?'

  'A craftsman, I should say. He has something important to tell--so hesays,' replied the old porter, with apparent sarcasm.

  'Ay, ay, I know!' sighed Fabricius. 'No matter, bring him in.'

  The slave retired, and reappeared with Cestus, washed, clean-shaved, andwearing coarse but clean garments, such as an artisan would reserve as hisholiday attire. It was full two hours since Afer had tapped him on theshoulder at the bridge below. He entered with a deep obeisance and a well-feigned nervousness and awkwardness. Natta, the slave, thought proper toremain within the door, and keep a keen eye on the visitor.

  The ex-senator's scrutiny did not, perhaps, beget the utmost confidence,to judge by the slight and almost imperceptible contraction of hiseyebrows. There was that, evidently, in the broad Teutonic cast of faceand small eyes of the burly Cestus which soap and water and a razor couldnot remove.

  The habitual current of a man's mind cannot, it is true, alter hisfeatures, but it charges them with an essence as readable as a printedpage.

  It was, therefore, the misfortune of the physiognomy of Cestus to leave nofavourable impression, for he had not as yet opened his lips.

  'You wish to see me,' said Fabricius.

  'The noble Fabricius!' answered Cestus, with deep humility--perhaps toodeep.

  'I am he; your business?'

  'So please you, noble sir, I am nothing but a poor labourer down at theriver below there, and I would never have the boldness to trouble yourworship, or to set my foot across the threshold of your palace, but that Icome not of my own accord, but to befriend a mate of mine who is dying.'Cestus paused, and nervously fingered his belt.

  'Well!' said Fabricius, 'go on! You have not come on your own account, buton that of a sick friend--what next?'

  'It concerns you also, and I was told to tell it to you alone,' repliedCestus, with a glance at Natta. The shadow of a smile rested on the faceof Fabricius as he signed to the slave to retire. Natta, however, feignednot to observe the motion, and did not move.

  'You may go, Natta,' said his master, and the old porter had noalternative but to obey, which he did, with reluctant steps and soursuspicious looks at the visitor.

  'Now speak,' said Fabricius; 'I think I could guess at the nature of yourmessage. Has it aught to do with a domestic matter of mine?'

  'So please,' replied Cestus, 'I will tell you exactly what I was told totell, for I know nothing more. Lupus--that is my friend--has been hurt todeath by a block of marble which slipped upon him whilst it was beingslung from the ship on to the quay. He sent for me to-night, and I did butclean myself and come straight to your palace. He said, "I did a deed someyears ago which has lain heavy on my mind ever since--heavier even thanthat cursed block from Luna which fell upon me yesterday. I am going fast;there is no hope, and I must ease my mind. On the top of Janiculum theredwells a nobleman named Fabricius. Seek him, and bring him hither backwith thee, that I may tell him what I did, for my mind torments me morethan my crushed body. He had a granddaughter, a little child--a littlegoddess; I can tell him of that child--bid him come with haste! Fourteenyears ago I stole her from his door and sold her. She yet lives--a slave!"'

  In spite of himself; in spite of the numberless plausible tales andprevious disappointments, Fabricius felt his heart beat violently, and atremor seize his limbs. Cestus's small keen eyes noted the change ofcolour on his cheek.

  'Fourteen years!' murmured Fabricius to himself; 'right almost to the verymonth; how could he know that if--alas, my little darling--my littleAurelia! shall I be fooled again?'

  'I pray you, Fabricius, be speedy, out of pity for my poor comrade,' urgedCestus; 'he will soon be beyond reach. It was a sore sin against you, butyour nobleness will pardon a dying man. And besides, you will forgive me,noble sir, for offering a suggestion of my own; if Lupus departs withoutseeing you, you may thus lose all chance of ever getting your lostgrandchild again. Ah me, that one could do such a deed as rob a house ofits sunshine for the sake of a few paltry sestertia!'

  This was uttered in a sighing kind of _sotto voce_, and the old Senator,racked with doubt and eagerness, with hope and the fear of oft-repeateddisappointment and disgust, passed his hand over his brow in poignantdoubtfulness.

  'Go to the Esquiline to my nephew--but no! I forgot; his Greek boy camehither t'other day to say he was going to Tibur for a space. Phoebus aidme! Where does this comrade of thine dwell?'

  'Not far away, so please you,' answered Cestus; 'on the other side of theAventine, nigh to the Ostian road.'

  'It is late,' muttered Fabricius.

  'It is,' observed the friend of Lupus, 'but Death is not particular as totime. In fact he seems to prefer the night-time. If Lupus live pastmidnight I shall wonder. Imagine, noble sir, a block of marble crushingpoor flesh and bone--ugh, 'tis terrible!'

  'You saw it?'

  'I did--worse luck.'

  'You are a labourer like him?'

  'I am--see!'

  The worthy labourer showed his hands. They had been specially rubbed andengrained with dirt before washing. So cleverly were they prepared, thatthey might have belonged to any hard-handed son of toil.

  'Did your comrade never tell you of this theft before?'

  'Never.'

  'And what does he deserve, think you, if he have done as he says?' saidFabricius, speaking with agitation; 'taking away what to me was moreprecious than life itself. What harm had I ever done him? To sell thesweet child for a slave--oh!'

  ''Twas a crime indeed, and no fate too hard for him,' observed Cestus.'But haste, I beseech you! The poor devil is dying; have pity on him, andserve yourself as well; for, as like as not, you may get your maid again.'Tis all plain to me now. When I first knew Lupus, some twenty years ago,he was as blithe a fellow as ever stepped; and then he began to change.Ay, ay! It is plain enough to see now what weighed upon him.'

  'Humph; do you say so?'

  'That is easily vouched for by others than myself. Will you not come? ormust I go back and tell him----'

  'Faith, I am distraught. I know not----'

  ''Tis scarcely likely
he would die with a lie on his lips, noble sir.'

  'I will go with you,' said Fabricius, with a sudden determination. 'Go tothe porch and wait! Natta, haste! Bid Pannicus, Cyrrha, and Crotus taketheir staves and go forth with me to the Aventine. Fetch me my cloak andcap!'

  'What, now--to-night?' demanded the astonished slave, who ran in at hismaster's call.

  'Yes, now, this minute--haste!'

  Now that his mind was made up the old man was burning with eagerness, and,ere long, he and his slaves were ready to depart.

  In the meantime Cestus went to the porch and stood on the outer step. Themoon was rising behind some heavy cloud-banks, and her effulgence shonedimly through the rifts. The great city lay stretched below, with itsgleams peeping through the hazy gloom. In the uncertain light a form creptnoiselessly up to the pillars of the porch, and whispered to the Suburanstanding there.

  'Well, is he coming?'

  'Yes--take care; he is here!' replied Cestus, and the figure glided backinto obscurity.

  Fabricius, followed by the three slaves bearing lanterns, came forth.

  'It is moonlight, Fabricius--the lanterns will be rather a hindrance thanotherwise,' observed Cestus.

  'It is moonlight truly, but not much as yet,' answered Fabricius; 'sountil it mends we will carry our own light with us. Lead on, good fellow,with Pannicus, and we three will follow.'

  Cestus did as he was told, cursing the lanterns in his heart. Pannicuswalked by his side. Far enough behind to escape observation, the cloakedform, which had spoken to Cestus, dogged their steps like a stealthytiger. They passed down the hill and through the Transtibertine districtto the river. After crossing the Sublician Bridge they proceeded to thegate of the Servian rampart called Trigemina, and then ascended theAventine Mount by the Publician Road.

  In the earlier times of the city this hill had been regarded as ill-omened. It had been occupied chiefly by plebeian families, but now wasbecoming more fashionable, following, as already said, the inevitable ruleof the wealthy classes seizing upon the most elevated and pleasantsituations, as the city waxed great. At the head of the upward roadFabricius and his party passed the temple of Juno Regina, which Camillushad built after his conquest of Veii. The three lanterns of the slaveswere undesirable accompaniments, in the estimation of Cestus, so herapidly hit upon a plan which might lead to their extinguishment. Fortunefavoured him as they passed the temple of the famous conqueror. The moonglanced out with her silver-bright disc from behind the sharp edge of ablack cloud, and bathed the columns of the temple, as well as every objectaround, in a flood of splendour. The obnoxious lanterns, with their smoky,yellow glare, were useless, and a contrast to the pure brightness around.The moment was opportune. Pannicus the slave, walking on the left ofCestus, carried his lantern hanging down at the full length of his rightarm. As the moonbeams fell to the earth, Cestus purposely slipped with hisleft foot, and falling across his companion's path, dashed the lantern outof his hand to the ground, where it instantly became dark.

  'My ankle seemed to turn on some cursed stone,' said Cestus, as hegathered himself up, rubbing his elbows and knees.

  Fabricius inquired if he was hurt.

  'No, not much--nothing that I can feel yet, save a bit of a shake.'

  Pannicus took his lantern to his fellow-slaves to have it relit.

  'Never mind the lantern, man! Who wants candles with such a light as thisDiana gives us?' cried Cestus, with a parting rub at his dustyclothes,--'come, we can see better without.'

  'I think so,' remarked Fabricius quietly, and the remaining two lanternswere extinguished.

  The road began to descend again toward the valley. In some places it wascut through the rock, more or less deeply, and at one particular spot itpassed through a grove of trees. The chiselled rock, which walled theupper side of the road, was scarcely breast-high, and fringed to the veryedge with ancient trees, as though the process of cutting the path hadbeen limited by veneration for the spot and the bare requirements of thework. This was a barrier on one hand which required considerable agilityto surmount. On the opposite side the face of the hill continued to slopedownward from the edge of the path into the dark depths of the grove,which the moonlight was unable to penetrate. It was one of those silent,secluded, mysterious spots, rich in tradition, which were fastdisappearing before the relentless march of the spreading city.

  A few paces within it stood a large square altar, dedicated to the deityof the grove. Its sculptured figures were indistinct, and worn bycenturies of elementary strife. The hoary trees surrounded and spreadtheir branching arms far above it. The silvery rays of Diana slippedthrough upon it, and it stood, barred with light and shadow, in its sylvanloneliness--ghostly, mysterious, and, as one might fancy, meditating on thememories of generations.

  It was to this spot the party led by Cestus now approached. The hour wasgrowing late according to the habits of people then. The road, never verybusy at any time, was deserted, and the dwellings had ceased before theyreached the sacred grove.

  They walked on until they arrived within eighty or ninety yards of theancient altar. Fabricius was busy balancing his hopes against the logic ofhis experiences, and his slaves were, no doubt, cursing the whim of theirmaster, in bringing them out on such a nocturnal expedition. SuddenlyCestus, who had beguiled the way by an intermittent conversation with hiscompanion Pannicus, picked up a stone, and flung it vigorously, as far ashe could, among the branches of the trees, in the direction of the altar,which they were approaching. The pebble rattled among the twigs, and fell,with a thud, on the turfy sod beneath.

  'What now, good fellow?' cried Fabricius from behind, 'has your day'slabour not given you sufficient exercise?'

  'Dost not see it?' said Cestus, pointing to the tops of the trees,--'anowl! shu!' And he made a loud noise and flung another stone.

  'Hush, man--you will stir the goddess of the grove--leave the owls inpeace!' said Fabricius.

  Cestus accordingly desisted, having done as much as he required. In a fewstrides they were opposite the altar. The Suburan stopped, and wheeledround so suddenly, that the old Senator and his two slaves well-nigh ranagainst him.

  'What now, man--what possesses you?' said Fabricius sharply.

  'One minute, so please you, to pray to the goddess for my poor comrade?'asked Cestus.

  'Go, then!' replied Fabricius in a gentle tone, and the pretended workmanstepped aside to the altar, where he appeared to engage himself indevotion. He prayed, as follows, in whispered tones:

  'Are you all there, and ready?'

  A murmur and a voice rose from the thick shadow of the stones, 'Ready, ay,and sick of waiting--are they yonder?'

  'Three dogs of slaves who will run at a shout, and the old man himself. Ihave come, on leave, for a minute to pray for a sick comrade to get betterwho died five years ago. When we move on I shall whistle, and then comeyou on our backs like four thunderbolts.'

  Having said this Cestus turned to go back, when a sibilant 'sh!' detainedhim.

  'Wait, Cestus, I think I hear horses' feet, and the game will bespoiled--hark!'

  But Cestus was either not so keen of hearing, or else was too impatient tomake a speedy end of the business, so that, after listening for a briefsecond or two, he snarled in reply, 'What horses, you fool; there are nohorses out this time of the night, on this road--just as likely the goddessherself--be ready for the whistle!'

  With that he rejoined the party, who were resting unconscious of such adangerous trap. They had scarcely taken half a dozen steps onward, whenCestus gave his signal, shrill and sudden. Four forms leaped like tigersfrom the shadow of the altar and fell on the affrighted slaves. Cestushimself bounded on Fabricius. At the same time the figure, which haddogged their steps from the Janiculum, leaped down from the rock-wall ofthe road and stood apart to watch. Two of the slaves had fallen in thesudden onslaught, but the third had managed to escape at the top of hisspeed. Fabricius, who, in despite of his age, retained yet a large use ofhis keen senses and bodily a
ctivity, had taken sufficient warning to raisehis staff, and meet the charge of Cestus with a vigorous blow. The ruffianstaggered, and the moonbeams flashed upon the polished blade of a weapon,which was dashed from his hand by the lucky stroke.

  'Wretch!' the old man shouted, when a blow from behind felled himsenseless. Cestus, furious with rage and pain, belched forth a frightfulimprecation. His right arm was benumbed or broken, and he stooped for hisknife with his other hand.

  Not far away was a sharp turn in the road. The tramp of horses and thejingle of accoutrements smote on their ears.

  'Bungling fool!' hissed the mysterious figure, springing forward tocomplete the work in which, so far, the Suburan had been foiled. But hewas met, and rudely thrust back by the powerful arm of the confederate whohad knocked the Senator down from behind.

  'Take your time, my lad,' bellowed that individual hoarsely, 'he's moremine than yours.'

  The slash of a poniard was the answer, and they closed in a struggle, whenthe others suddenly raised a cry of '_Cave!_' and fled in all directionsinto the recesses of the wood. A body of horsemen had rounded the bend inthe road and was almost upon them. They were in military attire, and themoon glittered on their polished helmets and the trappings of the horses.The foremost trooper immediately sprang to the ground and rushed forward,followed by two or three more. The struggling men parted and darted intothe grove after their companions, whilst the foremost of the new-comers,singling out Cestus, followed him at the top of his speed. He was in a fewmoments hard upon the heels of the Suburan, who strained every nerve infear of his pursuer, who possessed a far fleeter foot than himself.Fortune favoured him just at the critical moment, when, in terror, heseemed to feel a hand upon his collar. The outgrowing, straggling roots ofa tree tripped the foot of the trooper, and he flew, with a dire crash, tothe ground. The fall was so violent that he lay for a few seconds stunned.When he picked himself up, the whole of the flying vagabonds haddisappeared among the gloomy boles, like water through a sieve, leavingneither trace nor sound behind. He shook himself with a laugh, andgathering up his brazen helmet, walked back to the road. Some others ofthe troop were here dismounted, using their best efforts to revive theunconscious Fabricius. Flasks were produced; wine and water were pouredinto his mouth and rubbed on his temples. The two inanimate slaves werelaid side by side until a helmet full of water could be brought from aneighbouring fountain to be dashed upon them.

  The soldier we have particularised knelt down beside the prostrateFabricius. 'Is he badly hurt?' he asked.

  'It is hard to say, Centurion; but, dead or not, it is a man of theSenate,' replied the comrade, who was bathing the old man's forehead.

  'Humph!' said the Centurion, 'is, or was, rather--he wears only the narrowband. However, he is worth the trouble of a few minutes. Do your best. Doyou object to wait for a brief time, Drusus?'

  This question was addressed to one who sat motionless on his horse closeby. Leading reins were attached to his charger's bridle and held by amounted soldier on each side.

  'No!' replied this person, 'I hold this delay as kind and fortunate, forthe pleasant moonlight and the sweet air of heaven will soon know me nomore.'

  Fabricius soon showed symptoms of life, and then his recovery was rapid.He sat up and glanced around. 'Where am I? What is all this? Ah, I know,'he ejaculated. 'I remember!--but you?'

  'Why, simply in this way,' responded the officer; 'we saw you on theground, and a couple of night-hawks squabbling over you. A few momentslater, and probably you would never have spoken again on earth.'

  'Most surely--robbed of what little money I have about me, and deprived ofmy life as well. I have been decoyed into a trap,' said Fabricius, risingto his feet, with the help of the Centurion's arm. 'Thanks! My name isQuintus Fabricius, and I dwell on the Janiculum. I owe my life to you thisnight, and I will prove my gratitude, if my means and exertions are ableto do so.'

  'There needs no thought, but thankfulness, that we chanced to arrive soopportunely. The rest was easy--they ran off when they caught sight ofus--we came, saw, and conquered!' said the officer, laughing.

  'Be that for me to determine,' rejoined Fabricius; 'I will ask but twothings of you.'

  'Name them.'

  'The first is the name of one I have cause to remember.'

  'We are a good score of fellows--would you wish for them all?'

  'Thine only. Through you I shall know the rest.'

  'For their sakes, then, we are Pretorians.'

  'So I see,' observed Fabricius, with gentle impatience.

  'Well, then, I am Centurion thereof, and my name Martialis. But what ofthat? We all have done, one as much as another, and the whole amounts tonothing,--come, sir, and I will send two or three to guard you home.'

  The old man, still somewhat confused and trembling, murmured once or twicethe name he had heard, as if it bore some familiar sound.

  'Your name seems to ring in my ears as if I had heard it of old,' he said;'but that in good time. Having given me your name, you will not,therefore, refuse me the honour of your friendship. Give me your word, youwill visit me, and speedily. In the Transtibertine I am to be found by thesimple asking.'

  'Willingly! I accept your kindness with pleasure,' answered Martialis,with growing impatience to go onward.

  'Come with me now! Your men could return without you,' urged the old man.

  'What--entice me from my duty! Nay, you would not,' cried Martialis,shaking his head and laughing.

  'He would be bold, indeed, who would try to seduce an officer of ourPrefect,' interposed the quietly bitter voice of him who sat on the ledhorse, 'especially when that zealous and frank-minded Prefect sends hisofficer to lead a son of Germanicus, like a felon, to Rome.'

  'What!--of Germanicus!' exclaimed Fabricius, in astonishment, and ere hecould be stopped he pushed up to the speaker and seized his hand.

  'Drusus--of that same unhappy family. Evil fate spares us not.'

  'Your pardon, Prince, but this is against my orders,' interposedMartialis, quickly and firmly; 'you will not compel me to enforce them?'

  'Enough! Lead on!' responded the ill-fated prince, in a mournful voice.'Farewell, friend, whoever thou art.'

  'March!' commanded the Centurion, and the band proceeded. He himselfwalked on foot at its head, in order to lend the old Senator the supportof his arm. The slaves Pannicus and Cyrrha, with no worse effects of theiradventures than a confused singing in their heads, brought up the rear. Inthis wise they continued, until they had crossed the mount and descendedto the level ground near the Trigeminan Gate. Here Fabricius took leave ofhis preserver, with a few warm heartfelt words of thanks, and Martialisdetached two of his men to escort him home. Continuing on his way theCenturion led his troop in double file. The clang of the horses' hoofs,with the jingle of accoutrements, awoke the echoes of the silent, emptystreets. Ascending the Palatine they halted before the Imperial palace,and were received by an official and a few slaves. The prisoner wasdesired to dismount, and he was led into the palace. The lights of theinterior showed him to be a young man of not more than one or two-and-twenty, and he maintained the sullen expression of one who has suddenlybeen made the victim of deceit.

  'Is this my journey's end?' he asked of Martialis.

  'Here I must quit you, noble Drusus; I have no further instructions thanto leave you in charge of the keeper of the palace.'

  'Take me to my room then,' said the prince, haughtily, to the keeper,'where I may eat, and drink, and sleep, and forget what I am.'

  The keeper obeyed and led the way through the halls of Caesar, until theyarrived at a narrow passage, which terminated in a descending flight ofstone steps.

  'Whither are you taking me?' demanded the prisoner sternly, as he came toa sudden halt.

  'To the vaults of the palace,' answered the official laconically.

  'Know you who I am?'

  'Perfectly well. But I am ordered to place you in the vaults, and I haveno alternative but to obey.'

  The
young prince looked fiercely around, but seeing how useless anyresistance would be, he dropped his chin on his breast with a silentstoical resignation which touched Martialis to the heart. Torches were litand the party descended the steps, and went along an underground passage.The keeper of the palace halted before a narrow, heavily-barred door, andunlocked it. It needed a strong pressure to cause it to move on itshinges, and, as it did so, a heavy, damp, noisome atmosphere puffed forth,which caused the torches to flicker and splutter. They went in. Theinterior was hewn out of the rock; spacious enough, but humid, chill, andhorrible--a perfect tomb. The trickling moisture, which bedewed the walls,glistened icily through the gloom in the light of the torches, and thefloor was damp and sticky, and traced with the slimy tracks of creepingthings. There was a pallet and a stool, and the slaves placed someeatables thereon. Martialis felt sick at heart and shuddered.

  'You are sure you are right in bringing him to this fearful place--a placeunfit for a beast to rest in?' he whispered to the gaoler.

  'It is the best of all the vaults,' was the brief reply.

  The unhappy prince looked round, in a stupefied way, and shivered. Thechange was frightful, from the sunny skies and balmy air of the lovelysea-girt Capreae. Martialis stepped up to him. 'I must leave you, Drusus,'he said; 'I am sorely grieved to quit you in such a lodging--it must be byerror, and if so, I will not fail to do my best to have it rectified atonce.'

  'Thanks, friend,' said the unfortunate, looking with fixed eyes; 'bid themsend their murderers speedily!'

  Without another word he went to the pallet and sat down, and buried hisface in his hands in mute despair.

  One of the torches was fixed into an iron socket on the wall, and theorder was given to withdraw. Full of distress, Martialis took a secondlight from the hand of its bearer, and extinguishing it, he laid it on thelittle stool, so that it might succeed the other when needed. Then takinghis large military cloak from his shoulders, he gently dropped it over theunhappy prisoner's form and turned away. The dungeon was then vacated andlocked, and the Centurion rushed, as hastily as he was able, with a heartfull of painful feelings, up into the fresh pure air and sweet moonlightoutside.

  When he reached the camp with his troop, he was summoned to the Prefect todeliver his report, which was received by the commander with every sign ofsatisfaction. Proceeding, on his own impulse, to describe the dreadfulcircumstances of the prisoner, he was coldly interrupted and dismissed. Heturned to go, inwardly burning with disgust and indignation.

  'Stay, Centurion!' cried Sejanus; 'you have been inquired for here to-day--it is right I should inform you.'

  'Indeed! In what manner, and by whom, may I ask?' said Martialis coldly.

  'By a workman--a potter from Surrentum! Ha! You change colour!'

  ''Tis not from shame at least,' returned the other haughtily.

  'No, no--from conscious folly rather. You would wed a potter's girl. Youare blind to your own interests. Amuse yourself with her, if you wish, butthink twice ere you bind a clog about your neck.'

  'And even such clogs are as easily got rid off as assumed at the presenttime,' retorted the Centurion cuttingly.

  Sejanus bit his lip, and his brows met darkly. The retort cut home, for hehad put away his wife Apicata, to further more freely his guilty intriguewith Livia, the Emperor's daughter-in-law.

  However, he replied sarcastically, 'That is true; but not in the case ofsuch eminently virtuous men as yourself, Martialis. But just as you thinkproper--it is your own matter. As long as it affects not your CenturionshipI care not--not I.'

  'Rather than suffer that to happen, Prefect, I would relinquish my dutiesentirely--you need have no fear,' answered Martialis coldly, and, saluting,he left the room.